


just make me fly, just make me cry

by imdeansgirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ASL, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, American Sign Language, Deaf Character, M/M, Phone Sex, Sign Language, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4649856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdeansgirl/pseuds/imdeansgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's working a late night shift and gets an unusual phone call.</p><p>--</p><p>His face clearly indicates that, no, he gave Scott the right number. He’s still pretty sure this is wrong, so he tries to explain further.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>It’s an adult line. For adults.</i></p><p> </p><p>If he didn’t know any better, he would swear the boy smirks as he answers to that, his own mouth and hands moving as well. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Good thing I’m an adult.</i></p><p> </p><p>He really wouldn’t like to say this, but the dude isn’t, well. <i>Getting it.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>I know, but it’s for, like, phone sex.</i></p><p> </p><p>When the only thing he gets is two thumbs up from the—and really, he is smirking, <i>definitely</i>—boy on the screen, he almost dies of embarrassment. <i>This is no mistake. This dude really wants sign language phone sex.</i> Why does he do this job? Why is this his life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	just make me fly, just make me cry

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is heavily/totally [based off this video here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zu_jXaBUUY). i wrote this like forever ago and forgot about it :p i'm still working on the parks and rec au ~~and also a sense8 au with a lot of rare pairs that i'm super excited about~~ but i figured this might be good to post while i'm stuck on parks and rec and just started planning my sense8 au. i might write more of this in the future, but for now this is all. the title comes from [this song](http://www.metrolyrics.com/sex-on-the-phone-lyrics-erotic.html) and yes i'm a little ashamed but really i'm gonna pretend not to be.
> 
> also, yes, i am very aware video relay does not exist in america, but for the sake of this fic it does.

It’s getting late. The window to the outside world reveals darkness, the full moon streaming in to the floor of the office. Most of his coworkers have already gone home; Allison had left almost a half an hour ago, muttering something under her breath about how she would be shocked if her roommates hadn’t burned the house down yet. Liam, too, left shortly after, saying that Brett probably wouldn’t survive much longer without him. Scott, though, has no such luxury, which is just bullshit if you ask him. Sure, he’s missed a few days here and there. But is that any reason for Mr. Argent to make him work the graveyard shift with no one but Aiden and Lydia (who are great, don’t get him wrong, but just don’t get his sense of humor) to keep him company? 

Maybe. But does Scott have to _like_ it? No.

It’s been a few hours since Liam left, and very few calls have come in. Possibly only a handful, and he’s answered none of them; Lydia has answered most, if not all, of the calls. (He suspects highly that Chris plays favorites, and Lydia usually wins. She is, after all, his daughter’s best friend.) He sighs and stares wistfully out the window, and wonders idly if Stiles is at home, with takeout, like he promised. Or if perhaps he’s at Allison’s, wasting the time away with the three girls while Scott is miserable here. 

There’s a paper lying on his desk, a few inches away from his fingertips. In his bored state, he crumples it up and tosses it towards the trash can. When it makes it inside the rim, he smiles and feigns ‘the crowd goes wild’ noises. Aiden glares at him. He stops.

Thankfully, a call pops up then. He glances curiously at Lydia, who is, surprisingly, not on a call; she’s fiddling with a pen on her desk, her gaze bored and eyes half-lidded. He wonders why she and Aiden are still here. She is the boss’ favorite, and Aiden is almost never out sick. He shrugs and derails his own thoughts in favor of answering the call. The skype name is isaaclayme. Interesting, he thinks absently, clicking _Accept._

And the boy he answers to is—well, it’s just not what he’s expecting. Wild curly hair, big blue eyes, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut with, the boy on the other end looks about Scott’s age, and he’s very handsome. He looks almost afraid when the window first pops up, but takes in Scott and visibly eases, tension draining from his shoulders as his chest rises with a deep breath of relaxation. It makes Scott’s job of smiling and greeting a little easier.

He smiles and moves his hands in the correct patterns that come to him easily now, moving his lips along with the corresponding words. ASL is a third language (after English and then Spanish) he’s grown dear to, and the movements feel as natural as eating or breathing or _being_.

_Hello. Welcome to Video Relay. Tell me the name and number I can connect you to?_

The boy nods and feeds him the numbers with little to no difficulty, and Scott inputs them into the phone. He glances back up.

_And the name?_

However, the boy just shrugs, which is enough for Scott, so he hits call. He makes the ‘call in progress’ motion as the phone rings, smiling at the guy, who just looks antsy. Eventually, the ringing stops and someone picks up. The answer he gets, though, is not one he’s expecting.

“Hello,” someone sighs. A woman, he assumes. Her voice is tired and strained, like she’s sick. “You’ve called Phone Fuck. Which slut or twink do you want?”

What? “I—what?”

The lady on the other end sighs again. She sounds more put out by the second, which, Scott guesses, probably wouldn’t make for good business in any other service, but he thinks maybe the people calling this particular line most likely don’t care what their hostess sounds like. “Phone Fuck,” she says again, and wow, Scott wishes she would stop. “You’ve called Phone Fuck. Who do you want to speak to?”

His eyes widen, and he can feel his face heating up. This must be a mistake, he thinks logically. There’s no way this boy _asked him to call_ a phone sex hotline, and translate to him in sign language. Right? _Right?_

He stumbles over words to reply to her. “Uh—can I put you on hold? For, like, just a second?” He gets no reply and he doesn’t expect one, so he turns his attention to the computer screen. He signs and mouths to the boy, hoping his face won’t melt with the heat in his cheeks.

_I think it’s a wrong number._

The boy just glances to the side. His face clearly indicates that, no, he gave Scott the right number. He’s still pretty sure this is wrong, so he tries to explain further.

_It’s an adult line. For adults._

If he didn’t know any better, he would swear the boy smirks as he answers to that, his own mouth and hands moving as well. 

_Good thing I’m an adult._

Scott coughs, awkwardly. He can feel the embarrassment all the way in his ears now. He really wouldn’t like to say this, but the dude isn’t, well. _Getting it._

_I know, but it’s for, like, phone sex._

When the only thing he gets is two thumbs up from the—and really, he is smirking, _definitely_ —boy on the screen, he almost dies of embarrassment. _This is no mistake. This dude really wants sign language phone sex._ Why does he do this job? Why is this his life?

“Hello?” asks the woman on the other end of the line. She sounds impatient and snappish, and _oh god why_. “Who do you want to talk to?”

He sighs and shakes himself. _You can do this, Scott._ This is his _job,_ after all. “Hello,” he says, “my name is Scott from Video Relay? I have a caller—“

“Look,” the woman says on a heavy exhale. “Who cares? Just tell me who you want to talk to, and I’ll put you through.”

Scott clears his throat and nods. “Right. Sorry. Hold on, um.” He straightens his shoulders, and relays the message to the caller just as instructed.

_Who do you want to talk to?_

The boy looks thoughtful for a second, before signing a reply. Scott nods slightly before asking, “Well, what are your options?”

All he gets in reply is a very generic “Depends what you’re into,” which he signs back to Isaac. He awaits a response before replying with, “What do you have?”

“Gay, straight, domination, blond men, blonde women, BDSM, brunet men, brunette women, interracial, deep throat…”

He loses himself in the list as he stares at the boy on the screen and wonders, once again, how this is his life. He thinks about telling Stiles about this encounter when he gets home; how hard he’ll laugh and how funny this situation will, eventually, become. He thinks about how blue the boy’s eyes are, and why he’s calling a sex line—honestly, a guy this amazingly gorgeous should have no problem in the bedroom department regardless of deafness—and by the time he tunes back in, he’s missed over half of what the woman has said.

She obviously has no idea, though. She continues as if he’s actively listening. He holds a hand up and closes it, signing for the boy to _wait._ This may take a while. “…big asses, small asses, big tits, small tits, double penetration, triple penetration.”

There’s a long pause, then; that seems to be the end of the list, and he remembers almost none of it. So he turns to the computer screen and lists off all that he can remember _and_ thinks he can handle.

_Straight sex, gay sex, brunettes, and blondes._

All he gets back is an unimpressed look. 

_That’s it?_

Scott nods. That’s not it. But who says this dude needs to know?

_That’s it._

_You sure? No big asses?_

Nope. Scott shakes his head. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. He does not need that today. The boy doesn’t look disappointed, exactly, but not excited either. He shrugs.

_Gay blond, I guess._

Scott nods, and says, “Gay blond, please,” into the phone as cheerfully as possible.

“Connecting you now,” the woman says, and he’s relieved to be rid of her. The weight of the uneasy conversation slips away. Though he doubts the next bit will be much better.

He’s proven correct when he gets a breathy answer in his ear. “Hey, this is Jackson. Who’s this?”

This part, he can do. “Hi, this is Scott calling, from Vid—“

“You sound really cute, Scott,” the voice, Jackson, cuts him off. He feels himself blushing again, all the way down his neck and up to his ears. “Glad you called.”

Scott sighs. Oh, god, he _can’t_ do this. He glances to Mr. Argent’s office, where his paycheck will be trashed if he leaves early. He has to do this.

“No, sorry,” he says. “I’m calling from Video Relay, my name is Scott, and I have a caller who speaks sign language. I’ll be translating for you both throughout the evening.”

There’s a pregnant pause. And then Jackson gives him a very unimpressed, “What?”

He clears his throat. He has a feeling this won’t be easy. But he has to try, because, well, he wanted to help people. This is what he gets for that, he guesses. “Well, you can… talk to me, and I’ll sign to the caller, who’s deaf, and I’ll answer… to you.”

There’s another pause. “He’s deaf?” Jackson asks, eventually. If Scott strains his ears, he can hear the clanging of pots in the far background.

Isn’t that what he just said? “Well, yeah,” he says, shrugging. The boy on the other end of the Skype call is examining him curiously. “He’s deaf.”

“So he can’t hear me?”

Scott snorts at that. “ _No,_ ” he says slowly. “He can’t hear _anything._ He’s… _deaf._ ”

Said guy signs to him frantically from the screen, but Scott doesn’t quite catch it, as Jackson continues talking. “But… you’re signing everything I say to him?”

Finally, they’re getting somewhere. “Yes,” Scott agrees eagerly. “Yes, sign language, that’s right.”

“I know a couple words in sign language,” Jackson notes. “Tall,” he says, and Scott pictures his finger sliding up his hand, “and sunrise.” He envisions the arms pressed together, the right one raising like a lever. Jackson pauses, and he hears a pot scrape against tile. “Wait, can he see me?” he asks. What. He’s lost Scott, at this point. “Like, what I’m doing and stuff?”

Scott almost laughs. “What? No, dude, no one can see you. I’m video chatting him, and you’re on, like, a regular phone, man.”

“Right. Right, okay.” A chair scrapes against the floor, and feet patter. He assumes Jackson is moving around, walking about his apartment as if this whole thing is casual—well, he guesses it is, for him. Eventually, he speaks again and asks, “Well, what’s he look like?”

Scott glances at the tinny computer image. “Um,” he says, awkwardly. Objectively, he guesses he could say something generic about curly dark blond hair and blue eyes, but who says he’ll stop talking once he gets started? So he just says, “Well, he’s… he’s _really_ cute.”

The boy just stares back, blankly, and Scott guesses he doesn’t read lips, and thanks the stars up above. That would have been way too totally embarrassing. Not that any of this is really _not_ embarrassing.

“What was his name again?”

Shit, he never asked, did he? Either way, every call should be formatted the same way. “It’ll be easier if you talk to me as if I’m him,” he suggests.

He regrets that almost as soon as it’s out of his mouth, because Jackson’s voice drops to a breathy whisper, and he’s automatically uncomfortable. “What’s your name?” he asks. Scott nods and translates back to the screen. The reply is automatic and well-rehearsed.

“Isaac,” Scott says, eventually, after watching long fingers skillfully spell out all five letters.

Jackson huffs on the other line. “Dude,” he says, “that’s super fucking slow.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Scott sighs. “There’ll be a lag.”

There’s a sigh on the other line, and Jackson clears his throat. “What’re you doing up so late, Isaac?”

Scott translates as fast as the words come, and Isaac’s replies aren’t slow either, so it’s not like the lag between words are too bad. “Just finishing up some work. And you?”

“You know. Just… waiting for you to call.”

Isaac’s deft hands move quickly again. “What’re you wearing?”

Things are getting unsafe for work fairly quickly. Ironic, he thinks, because this is literally his job. “Just briefs,” Jackson replies, Scott translating as he does. “You?”

The answer is kind of ridiculous, considering Scott can see exactly what Isaac is wearing. But he replies with Isaac’s words anyway, because who is he to begrudge him an indulgence. “Just boxers.”

Jackson takes a thoughtful pause before replying with, “Is he really?”

Snorting, Scott says, “No. He’s wearing, like, a hoodie.”

From the screen, Isaac objects.

_Dude! Don’t tell him that._

Scott furrows his brow. 

_What?_

Isaac is signing again, but not before Jackson resumes talking. “Well, why don’t we just take those little things off, and—“

“Sorry,” Scott cuts in. “Can I just, like. Put you on hold?”

“Dude, longer I’m on the phone the more I’m paid,” Jackson says. “Put me on hold all you fucking want.”

Scott nods, and returns his attention to Isaac, who’s glaring at him from within the screen. 

_What?_

Isaac sighs, and signs again.

_Don’t tell him I’m wearing a shirt._

Faking incredulity, Scott answers. His expression, he hopes, is feigning disbelief Isaac would think that of him.

_What? I didn’t!_

There’s the smirk again, and Isaac leans forward, mouthing and signing slowly, as if maybe this way it’ll drive the idea through Scott’s head.

_I can lip read._

And of _course,_ of _course_ he can lip read. “ _Shit,_ ” Scott mutters. “Shit.” He goes back to signing, the switch from speaking to signing natural.

_I’m so sorry._

Thankfully, Isaac just shrugs, and waves him off. The smirk remains as he continues.

_I’ll forgive you, because you called me cute._

Then there’s the heat, again, lighting his cheeks with embarrassment. He definitely _did_ call Isaac cute earlier, and had thought, at the time, that he couldn’t read lips. But he could, oh shit. Best to play the fool.

_What? I never called you cute._

Isaac leans forward again, even farther, close enough to the screen for Scott to be able to count his fucking eyelashes. And his eyes are even prettier up close, and Scott kicks himself.

_I can read your lips._

Scott just stares, and Isaac grins back, and they sit there for a few seconds. That is, before Jackson’s voice breaks through the silence and ruins the moment. “Am I still holding? What the fuck?”

Shame hits him like a heavy slap to the face. “Oh, oh my God, yeah, sorry. Can you repeat what you said before I put you on hold? Shit, man, sorry.”

“I asked to take off the underwear, _Jesus Christ_.”

He nods, puts his head back into the game, and translates.

_He wants you to take off your boxers._

Isaac gives him a thumbs up. “Uh, they’re off,” Scott reports.

“Are you hard?”

And he must be either dense or totally distracted by the curve of Isaac’s lip, because he just says, “Sorry, what’s that?”

Jackson sighs. He is clearly frustrated, and Scott wonders how much longer they can go without him hanging up. “Ask him if he _has an erection_ or _not._ It’s really hard to get this going here, man.”

“Oh. _Oh._ Shit, yeah, sorry, hold on.” He asks, translating as well as possible. Isaac answers by squinting, then turning his hand and shaking it in a so-so way. Then he sighs and shakes his head.

_Just tell him yeah. Let’s move this along._

“Okay, um, yeah. He’s—er. Hard.”

Muttering something under his breath before answering, Jackson asks, “You wanna put that big, hard cock in my mouth?”

Scott stopped translating halfway through the sentence. They’re all sitting in silence; Scott looks flabbergasted, and Isaac is staring at Scott curiously, and as far as Jackson knows, all is going well. “Uh. Can’t we just assume he’s gonna say yes to that?”

“What? Did he say yes?”

“Uh,” Scott mumbles. “I assume he’s _going_ to? So let’s just imagine he’s already gone and done it and wrap this up?”

The groan from the other line is _not_ sexual, but decidedly frustrated. “Jesus Christ,” Jackson says. “Man the fuck up and ask him if he wants me to give him a fucking blowjob, alright?”

Huffing, Scott slowly signs back Jackson’s question. When he gets to the word blowjob, oh God, this can’t be real. He turns his head to the side and mimes a blowjob, glancing over to see Aiden staring at him, amused. From the computer, Isaac moves his fist back and forth. “Wow,” Scott says flatly. “He said yes. Shocking.”

“What do you want me to do now, lover?”

As Scott translates the question, Isaac’s eyes light up, in a positively _raunchy_ way, and he answers with nimble hands and _oh,_ dear sweet lord, he would be uncomfortable hearing that in his _own bedroom_ , let alone his workplace. He clears his throat, and glances at Aiden again, who is leaning forward on his hand and staring at Scott, a malicious glare in his eyes. 

“Hello?” Jackson huffs. “What the fuck does he want me to do?”

Scott clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says, “we’re having some technical difficulties here. Can I just put you on hold again?”

Sighing, Jackson answers, “Sure, whatever.”

_I don’t feel comfortable doing this._

Isaac looks _actually_ taken aback, like he didn’t think Scott would say that. His hands work quickly as he responds.

_It’s your job to interpret exactly._

Thank you, Isaac; it’s not like he _doesn’t know that._ He’s well-aware. He sighs and looks to the side before responding.

_I just don’t feel comfortable interpreting… that._

Isaac sighs, and glances around, before tentatively signing his response.

_Can you put me on with someone who is?_

Scott shrugs, then taps away at a few buttons. Isaac disappears from his screen. Behind him, he hears Lydia’s computer ring to life. He turns to watch her as she clicks _Accept,_ then looks at Isaac as if he’s already disappointing him. He barely contains his laughter as she signs with the most bored expression he’s ever seen on a person dirty-talking.

_Your big fucking dick feels so good in my mouth…_

She stops then, seemingly mid-sentence, and pauses to watch as, presumably, Isaac says something. Then she shrugs, taps a few buttons, and there’s a distinct _call ending_ noise. His own computer, then, rings with an unanswered call. He sighs, replaces his headset, and turns back around to click _Accept._

A small picture of Isaac glares at him from his screen. Scott grins, and feels the need to smirk in satisfaction as Isaac signs.

_I’m… sorry. It has to be you._

There’s a pause, before Isaac adds on:

_Please?_

Scott sighs. It is his job, after all. So he asks into the mic, “Hello? Jackson, you still there?”

“Yeah, oh my fucking God, I thought _you_ weren’t there.”

He nods, takes a deep breath, and powers through it. “Sorry. Going back, earlier—he said to spit on his dick to make it slippery.”

The picture of Isaac, from the screen, grins at him, looking almost _amused._ Smug bastard. Scott grins back at him.

“Alright. Uh, tell him I did, there’s spit everywhere, it’s fucking slippery.” 

“Kay. He wants to… oh, dear. He wants to fuck you.” 

“Mm, oh yeah. That feels so good, amazing. I want your big hard cock to fill me up.” Scott translates as he goes, listening intently to Jackson. “Oh yeah, oh fuck, so deep it hurts… Did you fucking burn it? I told you to be careful, Jesus. No, we can’t eat it; we’re lucky you didn’t catch on fire, Danny.”

Both Isaac and Scott himself, he’s sure, look confused at this point. Isaac’s brow is furrowed, and he’s leaning back; the amusement and slight arousal from his face has dissipated, replaced with confusion. “Uh, wait a sec. You’ve lost me. What’s burning? Who’s Danny?”

“What? Jesus fuck, did you say all that to him? Shit, no, Danny’s my boyfriend, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Isaac’s hands fly.

_What’s he saying?_

Scott tells him to wait as he listens to Jackson sigh on the other end. “Listen,” Jackson says. “I need to do something, just for a second. Can you keep him talking for a little bit?”

Oh no. Oh, no, no, no, no. His life must be some giant, ludicrous cosmic joke, because that is ridiculous. At the _thought_ of dirty talking, of embarrassing himself like that (especially in front of the cute caller), he shudders. _“Definitely_ not,” he answers.

“You hear that noise?” And he could, in the background, hear the clanging of pots and pans, and a few swears scattered in between. “It’s my boyfriend,” Jackson’s saying. “He just had a major concussion; keeps forgetting things, can’t tell two from four. He can’t work and we both have classes. We’re poor as fuck, okay? I need these calls. Just for, like, a minute, man. I’ll owe you one. It’s so much easier than it looks.”

Is it bad he’s considering it? He’s looking at Isaac, at this beautiful boy, and listening to Jackson’s sob story, and thinking about performing phone sex in lieu of a professional? He’s fucking nuts. But eventually, after thinking that he knows what it’s like to be a poor college student (hell, he is one), he concedes. “Yeah. Fine, I’ll do it.”

There’s a sigh of relief. “Thanks, dude. Just tell him stuff about like, how awesome his dick is. You’ll be set then.” And with that, there’s silence, besides the background noise. And Scott is left alone, to his own devices.

He sighs, and looks to Isaac’s waiting face. 

_Your dick… is good._

That makes Isaac go from confused to amused in a split second. He signs back, grinning at Scott the whole time.

“Would you like him to fuck you hard, or slow?” Scott asks, relaying Isaac’s question. He knows he’s talking to no one, but Isaac doesn’t seem to, so he puts on a show anyhow. He waits for a fake answer, doesn’t get one, and signs back. (His own personal preference, not that anyone’s asking.)

_Slow._

Isaac quirks a styled eyebrow as he answers.

_But I want to fuck him hard._

Scott shrugs.

_He said slow._

At this point, the boy on the screen looks on the verge of laughing, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement and delight. He shrugs right back as his hands formulate a response.

_It’s my money. I want to fuck him hard._

Scott sighs. There’s no winning here, is there? “Why would you even ask in the first place,” he mutters. “Okay, he’d like to fuck you hard, actually.” He pauses for effect, and then signs Jackson’s fake answer.

_He says okay. But for the future, you should probably start slow and then build up to hard. Just so you know._

Isaac gives him another impish grin and responds.

_Does he like that?_

Without really thinking about it, Scott nods. Because he knows he would like it, so why wouldn’t Jackson? Isaac, though, just grins even wider.

_You didn’t even ask him._

For a second, he panics. Shit, no, he didn’t. But he quickly recovers, crossing his arms over his chest, closing his eyes, and faking moans. When he finishes, Isaac is staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Scott smirks.

_So much moaning. Trust me. He likes it._

Isaac looks downright awestruck, like Scott’s the key to the universe. And hey, Scott can’t help but feel a little proud. He’s not the best at this whole phone sex thing, and hell, he probably shouldn’t be flirting with a customer. But it comes naturally with Isaac.

“Hey, I’m back. Where we at?”

At the sound of Jackson’s voice, Scott sighs in relief, tension rolling off him. Not that he didn’t like hanging with Isaac and his smooth grins and wide eyes, but dirty talking was exhausting. “Yes, thank God, okay. You’re still just being fucked, I think. What do I say now?”

“Uh… tell him it’s the biggest dick I’ve ever had.”

At that, Isaac preens.

_I know. Thank you._

“Okay,” Scott says. “Now what?”

Jackson hums thoughtfully. “Does he want to put it in my mouth?”

“Dude. That was just in your ass.”

“So?”

Scott shrugs, and mimes a blowjob. Isaac wrinkles his nose, and furrows his brow as he responds.

_That was just in his ass._

For some reason, to the sleep-deprived Video Relay employee, that answer is downright hilarious. He cracks up, doubling over as his shoulders shake and his eyes shut. Upon opening his eyelids, he finds Isaac laughing too. In his earpiece, Jackson is speaking. “What the fuck? What’s so—this is a fucking joke. Jesus shit. I _knew_ a deaf guy wouldn’t want phone sex. _What the fuck is wrong with people.”_

“No, it’s not a joke,” Scott says. “I promise.” Isaac’s signing, grinning at Scott as he does.

_Hang up. Hang up._

“Um, he wants to hang up,” Scott says, once the laughter isn’t overpowering him.

Jackson huffs, then pauses. Eventually, he asks, “Wait, did he cum?”

That makes Scott laugh even harder. And since Isaac is still signing and urging him to, he hangs up, the dial tone ringing out.

Once the laughter has subsided, it’s just Scott and Isaac. Scott’s face feels like splitting in two, and Isaac looks sheepish.

_Well that was a disaster._

Scott breaks into another fit of giggles before responding.

_Did you really think that would end well?_

Isaac shrugs.

_Worth a shot. Besides, I did meet a pretty cute boy._

The response sobers him almost immediately. Scott looks side to side, then feels himself grin again as he points to himself, and Isaac, the smug bastard, nods. Scott’s reply is probably not as confident as it should be, considering this handsome person just called him cute. 

_A cute boy you’d like to take to dinner?_

Isaac beaming at him was worth all the awkward dirty talk and the graveyard shift times ten. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you have a fic request i'll take them at [my tumblr!](dorkmccall.tumblr.com/ask) i'm open to almost every ship. _(almost.)_ have fun watching tonight's episode! :)


End file.
